Tears In His Eyes, Blood On His Face
by beeabeeon49
Summary: Aberforth's thoughts before, after and during Ariana's funeral. Written for headagainstthesky.


The atmosphere was cold, pristine; there was no pollution, no loud noises, just the sound of his own breathing. It had a strong clinical feeling to it, and Aberforth Dumbledore just _knew _this wasn't what she'd have wanted. She'd have wanted warmth and loving family members.

_Not that she had many of those._

Aberforth cast a disgusted eye around the congregation – though few had attended, fewer still had even known Ariana and even fewer than that were sad to see her go.

_And some had no right to even be sad._

As he sat down, he glanced at his brother who was sitting further along the row of pews. Tears were running down his face, but Aberforth couldn't even bring himself to pity him. If it hadn't been for that Grindelwald –

_It was all his fault._

But Aberforth found himself mourning two people – his sister, Ariana, was a given. This was her funeral. She was the one who had killed by one stray spell – from his own, his brother's or Grindelwald's was unsure.

_Why?_

The other he was mourning was the odd one – he was mourning for his brother. The old Albus before he had departed for Hogwarts. The one who had stayed up with him whenever he couldn't sleep or had nightmares, the one who always knew what to say, the one who made him feel better about their Muggle-killing father.

_Now everything had been shattered._

Someone stepped forward, started talking about Ariana and how tragic it was she had been killed and how little people had known of her. How sorely she would be missed, by her two brothers especially, who would do everything for her.

_It's over now._

They brought forward the coffin, and let them see the young woman lying still, a peaceful expression on her face. How could she have a peaceful expression on her face? Perhaps all the dead looked at peace with the world.

_I hate you._

He stood up, not caring he was attracting odd looks from the crowd and moved to where his brother was sitting. The shocked face he drew was his incentive. His hand swung, and he, Aberforth, punched Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in the nose, which gave a satisfying click as blood gushed out.

_That felt good._

"Restrain him!"

Aberforth found himself being hit with a body-binding curse from one of the Ministry officials that were placed strategically around the hall. The whole place was in an uproar; Aberforth found himself wincing. Yes, it had felt good, but he had completely ruined his sister's funeral.

The only person who was still and quiet was his brother, sitting serenely (although tears were in his eyes and blood on his face). Their eyes met for a moment, and Aberforth could see no anger or blame in them – only pain.

So much pain.

"_It'll be fine – "_

" – _only shocked, she'll pull through – "_

" – _can't be dead – "_

" – _isn't dead – "_

" – _it'll be fine – "_

" – _it's fine, don't worry – "_

" – _completely fine – "_

" – _once we get her to see a Healer, it'll be fine – "_

"It's not fine!" Aberforth bellowed, sitting up. Wait – when had he been lying down?

"What's not fine?"

The unfamiliar voice startled him, causing him to look up in alarm and a little confusion. The woman had been standing in the corner of the room, and was now approaching him cautiously. She must have seen the questions in his eyes, so answered them quietly without needing to be asked.

"You were Stunned because you were believed to be dangerous in your grief. You were brought here, to St Mungo's, because we have a trained psychiatrist to deal with cases like yours."

"Cases?" Aberforth croaked. He meant to be indignant, but his voice hadn't been used for a while, it seemed, so the word came out expressionlessly.

"Ones who are driven too far by grief," the woman – a Healer, he presumed – explained airily, waving a hand. "Ones who are perfectly capable of hurting their close family members."

"It was his fault she died," he retaliated, sure that Albus couldn't be defined as close family anymore.

"How so?" the Healer asked calmly, raising an eyebrow and taking a seat beside his hospital bed. "Did he turn straight to Ariana and kill her with the Killing Curse?"

"No – "

"Did he start the duel?"

"No, but – "

"Who started it?"

"Grindelwald, but you see – "

"Did he jump right into the duel?"

Aberforth sighed. "No, he came in last."

The Healer scrutinised him. "How do you know he didn't come in just to keep Ariana safe? Why weren't you the one who brought her to safety? You were capable to do so, but you were busy fighting your brother's best friend."

"So now it's supposed to be my fault?" Aberforth demanded angrily. "Now I'm supposed to be blaming myself? Is that what you're saying?"

The infuriating witch just smiled serenely at him. "Not at all. I'm just saying your brother wasn't entirely to blame."

"He still deserved it," Aberforth replied stubbornly, leaning back against the pillows and massaging his throbbing head. "The punch in the face."

This time the Healer laughed. "I'm not saying he didn't. You could, however, have chosen a less – public place to do so." She regarded him thoughtfully. "But do you still blame him?"

"A little," the wizard admitted.

"It was bound to happen," the Healer nodded, accepting the fact. "I suppose you can still blame him for a bit. But the entire situation wasn't his fault."

"I guess," Aberforth sighed, his brow furrowing in slight disappointment as the Healer got up to leave.

When she was in the doorway, he suddenly called out, "So when the psychiatrist meant to turn up?"

He could hear her tinkling laughter as she walked down the corridor.


End file.
